


burning incandescently

by celestialfics



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Dreams, M/M, Sweet Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 20:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: Genji’s dreams work overtime to try to bring a certain something to his attention.





	burning incandescently

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steelthighsvoideyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelthighsvoideyes/gifts).



> okay so. this is dedicated to shriya because she gave me the prompt and listened to me ramble about this fic for days. she also gave me the summary because she's great at everything and by the way you should subscribe to her bc she has some quality mcgenji and symmpharah content upcoming!!!  
> special shout out to tyler (halfpastknife) because he ALSO listened to me yell about this fic. often. and i adore him
> 
> the title is from "moth's wings" by passion pit  
> hope you enjoy!

Sometimes, Genji dreams. The first time he’d dreamed post-operation, he’d gone to Dr. Ziegler, and she’d assured him it was normal. (“Your brain is still  _you_ , Genji.”) Still, it shocks him. It’s a reminder—whether he’d like one or not—that humanity still clings to his core.

He needs sleep less often now, just because it’s how he’s wired. He’s built to minimize weakness, and the need for hours upon hours of sleep every night would surely qualify as one.

Even so, Genji avoids actual sleep as long as he can. Dreams often warp into nightmares that hold things Genji would rather not face, memories of blood and betrayal and hot, unadulterated rage. Dr. Ziegler recommends that Genji sleep far more often than he manages to, but on top of his natural avoidance of it, he rarely feels comfortable enough to completely let down his guard.

Pushing off sleep doesn’t necessarily aid Genji’s functions, though. One day, he’s training with McCree and some new recruit that he never asked the name of, and his aim is just  _awful_. His shuriken go awry no matter what he tries to do, and McCree casts him a look that seems almost worried.

“Hey, Genji,” McCree starts in his low drawl, easily slipping peacekeeper into his belt holster.

Genji swallows thickly to push down the frustration that builds in his chest at each of his failures. “What is it,” he replies flatly to mask his vexation at himself, and the recruit spares a glance over at them but quickly turns back to practicing when met with Genji’s cold glare.

“Now, don’t take this wrong,” McCree says, biting at the inside of his bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. “But ya’ seem a little off today. How’s about you take the day off? I’ll tell the commander somethin’ to get you off the hook.”

Genji blinks at him. “I’m fine,” he responds, turning away from McCree and proceeding to miss his intended target with two of his three shuriken.

“Genji…”

Some part of Genji insists on despising the way concern oozes out of that one spoken word, despite his yearn to accept McCree’s help. “McCree. I’m fine.” His words are taut and final.

McCree lets out a sigh. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“Alright, alright.” McCree apparently accepts defeat, spinning peacekeeper out and shooting at the targets again.

Genji wonders if McCree is aware that Genji can tell he’s glancing over at him every minute or so.

—

There's a buzzing noise coming from somewhere inside Genji's quarters, but he can't place it. He knows that he needs sleep tonight, and he truly had all intention  _to_ sleep, but the constant buzz is driving him up the wall.

He promptly sits up from his bed, stretching his neck to the side as he investigates the room for a culprit. There's no other machinery beside himself around, and he's fairly certain that all his mechanical parts are running smoothly. The noise could just be in his head—a woodpecker digging into the back of his brain—but it seems real. He just wishes he could place it.

As if on cue, there are a couple knocks on Genji's door. Genji's head whips towards the door at the sound, and he calls out, "Hello?"

"It's McCree," comes from the other side, and Genji withholds a sigh.

He hesitates, and then he says, "Come in."

McCree pushes the door open just a touch to peer inside, though it's mostly dark save for a strip of moonlight streaming in through the window. The light splays at the end of Genji's bed, distorting because of the crumpled blanket there.

"I don't reckon I woke you?" McCree words it like a statement but still asks it like a question, and for some reason, tension seeps from Genji's shoulders.

"No," he admits, "I was awake."

"I thought you'd be," McCree replies, opening the door further to take a step into the room. He's dressed in a plain, loose t shirt and a pair of red flannel pajama bottoms. Genji’s eyes flicker across his body, shirt pulled almost tightly across his wide chest and pants loosely hanging around his waist. The band of his underwear is visible.

"You mind if I stick around for a bit?"

Genji blinks, pulled out of his thoughts. He’s unsure of McCree's intentions, and McCree observes his hesitation, stopping where he stands and waiting on an approval. He looks so vulnerable here, clad in only pajamas and without any means of defense. Genji almost feels uncomfortable how vulnerable he is. Does he feel that safe here? Does he feel that safe around  _Genji_?

"Do you need something?" Genji asks, an eyebrow raising.

McCree tilts his head curiously. "Do I seem like I need somethin'?" he inquires in response, but Genji only stares. McCree gives, "I'm here 'cause you looked pretty bad out there today. Can't have fellow agents going under the weather, y'know? Thought I should stop in."

"Hm," Genji grunts, "What do you plan on doing?"

McCree shrugs noncommittally. "Some say I have the singin' voice of an angel."

Genji, again, stares, his lips slightly parted. "I do not want you to sing," he replies bluntly.

McCree chuckles lowly, finally proceeding further into the room. Genji watches him like a hawk, following his every movement. "Just a joke," he says eventually, pulling a chair from the desk in Genji's room and sitting on it backwards, his legs splayed and forearms crossed, leaning on the top of the chair. He sets his head on his arms.

"I admit I still do not understand your intentions," Genji says. While McCree's presence oddly doesn't make Genji feel on guard, he can't quite think of it as an aid to sleep.

"Just thought you could use some company," McCree responds, "I didn't think you'd appreciate anythin' like tea or warm milk or the like. But I know it can be hard to sleep when you just feel alone."

Genji remains silent, dwelling on McCree's words. He may be right—maybe Genji would be able to sleep with someone else in the room looking out for him—but admitting that feels like accepting defeat, somehow.

"McCree," Genji starts slowly, "I think I am used to being alone by now."

McCree's eyes flicker up from the ground and to Genji's face, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, nobody—”

"It's fine." Genji cuts him off. "Go back to your room and get some sleep."

The same kind of finality to Genji's tone that had turned McCree down earlier does so again, and a dejected McCree stands from the chair and heads back to the door.

Just before he leaves, he says, "If you look like hell tomorrow, Genji, I'm not leavin' you alone, y'hear?"

Before Genji has time to give a response, the door is pulled softly shut. He's left alone again, and he slowly readjusts into his bed, laying his head on the pillow and splaying his arms on either side of him. He slightly regrets making McCree leave, but it's not like he'd admit that to himself.

He realizes a few moments later that the buzzing has ceased.

—

It doesn't immediately occur to Genji that he's somewhere where he'd ought not to be, because the first thing on his mind is the array of bullets coming for him. He instantly attempts to deflect the barrage, which comes from an unknown source, something Genji can't see. He's mostly successful, though grazed by a bullet on his shoulder.

When the bullets pause, Genji takes the chance to escape, but when he looks around, he realizes that something's not quite right. Because he's definitely in rural America, and... he  _definitely_ doesn't remember getting here.

There are wooden buildings and houses around with old painted signs in English, and the ground is almost solely sand. Genji watches in awe as a tumbleweed rolls past. As he gawks at his surroundings, he doesn't notice the towering machine that has come up silently behind him, highly resembling the heavy artillery units he had faced off against on a recent mission. He does notice, however, when the unit begins to rapidly fire at him.

Except, suddenly, Genji's on the ground, safe from the barrage of bullets coming from the malicious machine. And McCree is on top of him, having just tackled him out of the way of the fire.

Genji stares up at McCree with wide eyes, unaware of how the heavy artillery unit has conveniently disappeared, though that’s not the first thing on his mind.

"You ought to be more careful," McCree says, holding himself over Genji with his elbows pressed to the ground on either side of Genji's head.

Their faces are awfully close, and when McCree exhales, Genji feels it on his own mouth. He has a sudden urge to surge upwards and—he stops himself, clearing his throat and turning his head to the side, trying to ignore the way his cheeks feel hot.

"You okay?" McCree inquires, pushing up from his elbows onto his hands. "Didn't mean to tackle you so hard, but... Y'know."

As McCree goes to sit up, he straddles Genji's lower waist, and Genji is having a exceedingly difficult time forming any coherent thought.

It's about then that Genji realizes he's dreaming, and maybe he's a bit late on the fact with everything considered, but he doesn't dwell on it. Instead, he sits up with McCree still straddling him, their chests just a centimeter apart and their faces even closer, and he asks, "Why am I here?"

McCree tilts his head in that curious way he does before he replies, "The heart wants what it wants, I 'spose." His eyes flicker down to Genji’s mouth.

Genji feels a shiver run down his spine, and he’s suddenly in his own bed again, eyes flying open only to see the ceiling above him. He presses his hand to his chest, where he can feel his heart beating quicker than normal. He takes in a deep breath, exhales, and then sits up.

He’s not entirely certain he’s ready to face the situation, but there’s not a chance of him going back to sleep like this, so he swallows thickly and settles in for the long hall.

He can think of a multitude of reasons that he would dream about McCree: for one, he was the last person Genji talked to before sleeping. He’s also a coworker and someone that Genji has some trust in. As far as he knows, it’s not unusual to dream about friends.

And this reasoning would work just fine if Genji had simply dreamed about  _McCree_. Except, there was a whole extra layer in there that makes this about ten times more complicated, because Genji  _definitely_ wanted to kiss him. Genji wouldn’t have a dream like that about any of the other agents; he’s positive of that. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long sigh.

Maybe he’s making this more complicated than it’s ought to be. After all, it was just a  _dream._ Depending on who you ask, dreams could mean absolutely nothing.

He probably should tell McCree about it and get everything on the table, just to clear the record. To make it as simple as possible. To get it out of the way.

That seems a little terrifying, though.

Genji swings his legs off of the side of the bed, his feet hitting the floor. Reluctantly, he stands from the bed and stretches his arms over his head.

He decides it’s best to just not think about it.

—

In hindsight, this is a horrible idea. Because as soon as Genji sees McCree that morning, the feelings he'd felt in his dream rush back, and he has a hard time concentrating. McCree's doing something absolutely mundane—just washing a dish in the common kitchen's sink—and Genji's breathing catches in his throat.

McCree turns at Genji's entrance and offers him a slightly groggy smile. "Mornin', Genji. Get any rest?"

Genji hesitates and then nods. His chest feels tight.

"Glad to hear it."

It's silent for a few passing moments, both of them standing together in the kitchen. McCree then turns back to the sink, though Genji stays frozen in place. Despite everything, Genji still feels like he should tell McCree about this. Whether it’s his inclination to be honest with McCree or something entirely different, Genji’s not sure.

Impulsively, he says, "Actually, McCree—" He cuts himself off when McCree looks back over his shoulder.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Genji answers. "No. I don't think so."

This piques McCree's interest, and he turns the faucet off before turning around and leaning back against the counter. He raises an eyebrow, as if to say "go on."

Genji clears his throat. "I dreamed last night." He stalls as he thinks of what to say, having jumped into the deep end without aid.

McCree seems to wait for Genji to go on, but when he doesn't, McCree says, "Is that not normal?"

"I suppose it is.” Genji pauses, letting out a long breath before he begins again: “Though I must be straightforward with you in this respect, because I don't want this to become a problem." McCree cocks his head, confused at Genji's preface but allowing him to continue. "The dream I had included you quite intimately and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Perhaps we should ask Reyes to separate us for the time being—"

"Settle down there," McCree interrupts with a slight chuckle, lifting his hands, palms facing Genji. "' _Quite intimately_ '? You don't mind if I ask ya' to clarify, do you?"

Genji blanches, and it's a few seconds before he sputters out, "I can't deny that I wanted to kiss you. In the dream."

Some kind of smirk that Genji can't quite decipher comes across McCree's face, and he lets out a low chuckle.

"Really now," he murmurs, and Genji hardly catches it. After, though, he speaks up, "Well, Genji. Tell me when you decide what you feel about it. Or I can help you out. Just let me know."

Genji blinks once, twice. "What?"

McCree nods at Genji and then exits the kitchen, leaving Genji alone. Genji stands frozen for some passing moments, shell shocked.

—

And, well, Genji doesn't quite know what to do with himself after that, so he heads to the training grounds to try and clear his head and get some time to think. It takes all of Genji's willpower to actually concentrate on his exercises, but he falls into a rhythm after some time, both muscle and machine working through memory as Genji's mind goes elsewhere.   
  
McCree had asked him to figure himself out, so it's what he plans to do. He can't have this hindering his performance, though he can admit that the dream was... pleasant. Far more pleasant than the nightmares he's gotten used to. He woke up with a racing heart, but it wasn't racing from fear, and Genji thinks that's important.   
  
And while it would be far simpler to pretend there was no deeper meaning to the dream, Genji's having a hard time denying that he feels something past platonic for McCree. Even before the dream, Genji never saw McCree how he saw the other agents. McCree, in Genji's eyes, has always been a little better, a little kinder, a little... more attractive.

His movements pause at this thought, and he rolls his shoulders. Genji isn’t blind to attraction. In his past, he was lucrative, indulgent, and impassioned. He did things that he shudders to think about now, because with a body like this, with a  _mind_ like this, Genji has pushed his old habits away. Though he can’t deny that something’s always been there, despite his complete hesitance to acknowledge it. It’s hard not to be attracted to McCree’s muscular arms, his powerful thighs, his gruff voice, and a multitude of other qualities that make Genji’s chest feel hot. But until now, Genji had no trouble ignoring this.

Maybe he should take McCree up on his offer to help him out. The more Genji thinks, the more appealing the option sounds, and it seems faster than his own dwelling on it.   
  
So, Genji sets about looking for McCree. He runs into Reyes as he heads down a corridor towards the common area at the base, and he inquires about McCree's whereabouts.   
  
Reyes narrows his eyes at Genji and then replies, "Said he was going to his room. Kid’s probably waiting for you."   
  
Genji stares in shock at Reyes for a moment before mumbling his thanks and continuing on his way with a slightly quicker pace.   
  
It doesn't take Genji long to get to McCree's room, but when he lifts his hand to knock on the door, he hesitates. After a taking a deep breath, Genji holds it in as he raps on the door with his knuckles.  
  
It's only a few moments before the door is swung open, revealing a now fully dressed McCree, save for his hat. Genji peeks around McCree's shoulder to see the hat sitting on the end of his bed.   
  
"McCree," he greets, letting out the breath and letting tension ebb from his shoulders. "I thought I should take you up on your earlier offer."   
  
One side of McCree's mouth lifts into a smile, and he opens his door further to allow Genji inside. "Didn't take ya' long," he comments with a teasing tone, and Genji throws him what he hopes comes across as a playful glare.   
  
"Like I said, I do not want this to become a problem," Genji says after he's stepped into the room.   
  
McCree places his hands on his hips. "What's the problem, darlin'?"   
  
"Well," Genji starts, "I don't want my feelings for you to get in the way of anything."   
  
Lifting a hand to his chin contemplatively, McCree inquires, "So you've decided you've got feelings?"  
  
"I don't know what else I'd call them," Genji responds, and McCree lets out an amused huff.

"Right, right. So, you don't wanna mess anything up."   
  
Genji nods, not breaking eye contact.   
  
"And..." McCree trails, taking his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before it snaps back into place. Genji watches the movement with undivided attention. "The kissin' thing. Dream exclusive, or...?"   
  
"That is why I came for your help,” Genji admits, “To really make sure of my feelings."

One of McCree’s eyebrows shoots up. “I don’t know if that’s so fair on my heart, ninja.”

Genji stares. “What do you mean?”

McCree chuckles lowly, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Genji, what am I supposed to do if that makes you change your mind?”

He blinks, and moments later he understands McCree’s sentiment—Genji’s using him for his own benefit—so he bows his head slightly in apology. “I’m sorry, McCree. I was only thinking of my own feelings, though I am fairly certain they would not change. Either way, I shouldn’t have imposed.” He lifts his eyes but turns his head so he looks at the wall. His jaw clenches, and he mutters, “It seems all I know how to be is selfish.”

After letting out a sigh, McCree takes a step closer to Genji. “Hey, now,” he says, setting one of his hands on Genji’s shoulder. “I invited you to come t’ me. It’s best not to force this type a’ thing. You’re just fine.”

Genji pushes himself to make eye contact with McCree—his eyes are so deep brown that they’re almost black, and Genji’s breath catches in his throat. He nods slowly, not breaking eyes with McCree. He feels vulnerable, like McCree can see his thoughts, and though he knows that’s impossible, his gaze flickers away.

“I like you more than I realized,” Genji murmurs softly, line of sight trailing everywhere save for McCree’s face.

Genji can feel, though, that McCree’s eyes are still on him.

“Your dreams ain’t leadin’ you wrong?” he inquires, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“I believe my dream was indirectly calling me an idiot for not noticing sooner,” Genji admits in response, trying to dispel the heat that rises to his face.

McCree shrugs, “Sometimes it just takes a bit of a push, y’know?”

Finally lifting his gaze to meet McCree’s again, Genji lets out a long, languid sigh. There’s a slight lull and Genji lifts a hand to set it on top of McCree’s hand that still rests on his shoulder.

“Am I wrong to assume you feel the same way about me?” Genji inquires, breaking the silence.

McCree’s reply is instantaneous: “Not wrong in the slightest, darlin’.”

Genji nods, though the fact utterly confuses him. What, beneath the metal plating and behind the scars, is worth it? Genji doesn’t try to fathom it; he trusts McCree enough to take his word.

Impulsively—Genji’s always been so impulsive—he moves his hand from McCree’s to touch McCree’s face, the rough of his palm pressing to McCree’s cheek and scruff.

“McCree, you’ll have to forgive me,” Genji speaks tentatively, letting the pads of his fingers trail down McCree’s face. “I know you said it shouldn’t be forced, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Then it ain’t forced, is it,” McCree responds, head tilting ever so slightly. His lips curl upwards and Genji presses forward to catch that smile with his own mouth.

Genji is careful at first; a slow, long kiss breaks and Genji pulls away to see McCree’s face. His eyes are alight with something Genji hasn’t seen on him before, and he takes it as a good sign, pushing up on his toes to meet McCree again, this time with more urgence.

McCree leans down to accommodate Genji, his hand moving from Genji’s shoulder up to cup his jaw—metallic, irremovable, and probably cool to the touch. Genji slowly leads McCree to the wall until McCree’s back presses to it, and then Genji has almost all the leverage.

McCree tastes of cigarette smoke and something fresher, but Genji’s too enthralled to spend his precious attention figuring it out when he can instead focus on taking McCree’s bottom lip between his own teeth, just grazing the skin as he pulls away, letting McCree’s lip snap back into place.

Genji’s hands roam, suddenly interested in the curve of McCree’s back, the width of his hips, the broadness of his chest. And then McCree’s mouth roams, kissing along the edge of metal and skin along Genji’s jaw. He peppers kisses up to Genji’s temple, and then he lets his head fall back against the wall. He looks down at Genji with eyes half lidded.

“You ain’t so bad at that,” he says, voice raspy and following chuckle raspier.

“Not bad yourself, McCree,” Genji responds, and McCree makes a clicking sound with his tongue. 

“Try Jesse.”

Genji allows a slight smile to pull at his lips, and he leans forward to rest his head against McCree’s chest.

“Okay, Jesse.” 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/liquidsaints) & [tumblr](http://liquidsaints.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


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